


Trouble Brewing

by SerenitysSwirl



Category: Homestuck, Problem Sleuth (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shop, Alternate Universe - Human, Humanstuck, Stabdads
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-30
Updated: 2013-06-02
Packaged: 2017-11-23 02:03:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/616848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerenitysSwirl/pseuds/SerenitysSwirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Slick still isn't sure about this whole coffee shop gig, but he's coming to terms with it. That is, until a certain group of weirdos moves across the street and threatens <em>The Midnight Brew</em>'s business.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Make Her a Member of the Midnight Brew

**Author's Note:**

> I saw the idea for this on Tumblr once (minus the Stabdads part) and couldn't resist. In all honesty, I have no idea what I'm doing with this and posted it just to get the idea out there. So, if you have any ideas or requests, please tell me. PLEASE.

Slick still isn’t entirely certain how he and his three comrades came about to own their coffee shop, _The Midnight Brew_. He supposes it started with a load of varied alcohol and ended with a “shit, let’s be baristas!” At least, he’s pretty sure that’s how it happened. Either way, he’d come accustomed to the in and out of the patrons, the rush of the work, hell, he was even partial to the smell of brewing coffee now! 

Of course, there were some rough patches. Like the time Slick’s son accidentally broke a coffeepot, sending a geyser of steaming-hot liquids over everyone behind the counter, and, admittedly, a few customers. Or the time Deuce got the bright idea to _climb_ the shelf, instead of asking for help from someone taller. Or when, just a few weeks prior, a new coffee place opened up directly across the street, dubbed _The Felt Cup_. It wouldn’t bother Slick so much if it hadn’t been doing so _infuriatingly_ well. Cups of green as far as the eye could see. It was sickening.

Especially when the manager was a tall, raven-haired beauty who was a cut-throat businesswoman at heart. The workers were just the bitter, maggot-ridden icing on life’s lousy “At Least You Tried, Slick,” cake. All the workers were men that had sickly, almost green skin and each one seemed to have their own little quirk. A particularly sadistic one carried these suspiciously familiar voodoo dolls that they’d find hung around the shop. No one had any idea how the little bugger got inside to do it, but it unsettled each and every one of them.

Slick ceases his musings as a new customer enters, causing the pathetic, chipped bell to ring as she enters. His dropped jaw turns into a sour grimace when he recognizes her. Long, black hair; gruesome, eight pupil-ed glass eye; and a hooked, left arm, because she somehow felt the need to not use a _normal_ prosthetic hand. Ah yes, the face of the enemy’s daughter, Vriska Serket. Not that Slick would ever bother with remembering her name.

Vriska smirks, making a show of waving around the coffee in her hand. Slick sighs. It was too early for this. “Heeeeeeeey, Spades. How’re things over in no-man’s-land?” she drawls. Slick also wasn’t sure where she was getting the odd nicknames from.

He sighs. “What ya’ want, little girl? Tryin’ to work here if ya’ hadn’t noticed.”

“‘Trying’ being the key word here. And my name is Vriska, jeeeeeeeez.” 

Slick lets out a guttural growl. Oh no, he wasn’t dealing with this. Droog hands him some person’s mocha-frappa-cocolata-whatever and whispers, “Everything alright? We can get rid of her if you need us to.” The shorter man waves his friend away, with a, “I got it,” and calls for the customer.

“Okay, freaky chick. I need ya’ to tell me what ya’ want, or amscray the hell outta’ here.” Slick demands, massaging his forehead.

Vriska sighs, rolling her head back. “FINE,” she moans, as if it was painful to just cut to the point, “my mother would like to go on a date with you.”

Slick coughs on his spit. “SHE WHAT?”

The girl rolls her eyes, saying, “Please, Spades. It would be STRICTLY business-related.” Serket winks, “Unless you want it to be—gasp!—moooooooore!”

The man growls again, noticing Boxcars’ son (Tavris? Travros? He could never remember) glancing over with a worried look on his face. Slick goes back to the proposition. He had to admit the woman—Ms. Snowman, he believed—did have quite the pleasing body. Maybe, in another universe, they could be together happily. But no, this was war. And he was NOT backing down.

“Honey,” Slick starts, coming to a decision, “I’ve tasted your ma’s coffee, and if she can’t tell the difference ‘tween a coffee bean and a fuckin’ lampshade, then how’s she gonna be able to tell a toaster to my dick?” 

Next to them, he hears Karkat and Nitram take in a collective breath, at some point joining them at the counter. 

Vriska seethes, her scraggly incisors bared. “Say one more thing about my mother and you’re going to pay.”

“I’d never date that psychotic wench if she was the last doable woman on Earth. I’d date the ceiling fan before that eight-crazed bitch!” He barely has a second to blink before the scorching contents of Vriska’s coffee cup were splashed onto his face, finding its way to his left eye.  
The shop was completely still as Slick shrieks, clutching his scathing eye as the young Serket absconds in a fiery rage. Droog sighs as he drags his co-worker out the backdoor, calling for Boxcars and Deuce to man the counter. 

Karkat and Tavros share and awestruck look as they make their way back to Aradia and Sollux. “Wow,” Nitram begins, “your dad can be pretty, hardcore when he wants to be.”

“Yeah, it’s all the other times that make him look like a goddamn idiot.”

 

The next day, Slick returns with an eye patch and a grudge. The battle had already begun in his mind, and he did not intend to lose.


	2. Coffee and Gimmicks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A rivalry begins...let the ideas roll.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't think I was going to continue this, but I was bored, so here you go! Not sure how I feel about it, but oh well.

It was the night after Slick’s return when the mishmash family meets together in the back room of _The Midnight Brew_ to discuss ways to take out the enemy. Technically they were only related in pairs, but everyone considered each other family anyway. Slick, Droog, Boxcars, and Deuce had all gone to college together, so naturally they acted like brothers and their children as siblings. Karkat, Tavros, Aradia, and Sollux had kind of just popped up in their lives after a series of considerably painful-to-remember events that Slick didn’t like to dwell on.

“Alright, I’m runnin’ outta’ patience, so listen up,” he begins unceremoniously, “we gotta drive those happy-go-ugly bastards outta our area.”

“But how do we do that, Slick?” Deuce asks, adjusting himself on the hard plastic chair.

“Frankly, I dunno, SO any a’ you got any ideas?”

“Um…” Tavros timidly raises his hand and continues at Slick’s eye-roll, “maybe we could hand out something for free, whenever someone orders a venti…or something like that.”

“…The fuck’s a venti?”

Droog sighs. “A venti is the largest cup size on our menu. I think that might actually be a good plan.”

“Or! OR we could blow the place up!” Deuce jumps from his chair and pantomimes an explosion, punching the air and attempting to force Sollux into a headlock.

“Well dunno ‘bout ‘splosions,” Boxcars speaks up, “but how’s ‘bout we go in and rough ‘em up a little?”

Slick rubs his chin in consideration. “Naw, I don’t wanna knock their lights out or anythin’…Just drive ‘em outta a job.”

“Oh!” Aradia stands, dusting off her skirt, “we could put on a sort of staged performance! We could go in and make this huge fuss about their service and coffee and maybe drive out the customers. I’ve learned a lot from my drama class, so I think it could be fun!”

“And I could get uth hidden camerath tho that we can watch it fail horribly,” Sollux offers.

“Ugh…” Karkat groans, rubbing his hands over his face, “Why can’t we just set up fliers or make a commercial or hand out coupons or some shit like a _normal_ business.”

Droog shifts slightly, saying, “I still like the idea of handing out something. Maybe some sort of plush? A worker of The Felt Cup is excellent at stitching and—”

“Aw, hell no!” Slick interjects, “I ain’t gettin’ no help from those freaks. Let’s just do Aradia’s idea an’ see how that works.”

“Can I do it? Can I?” Deuce asks excitedly.

“Wouldn’t it be a little _obvious_ with one a’ the adults?” Boxcars grumbles.

Karkat snaps his eyes up and shakes his head. “Oh no, you’re not dragging me into this sinking ship! I’m grabbing my life vest, see you on dry land, fuckers.”

“Not me. I’m thetting up the camerath to watch and laugh over for generathons to come,” Sollux lisps, a small smirk on his face. All eyes land on Tavros, who frowns and gives Aradia a pleading look. Grinning slyly, she latches onto his arm and buzzes with energy, excitement spilling over like a blender without a lid and somehow raising everyone’s spirits.

“Okay, so here’s what we do…”

 

It was just two days later when two odd looking patrons stride into _The Felt Cup_ during the morning rush. Of course, since the shop was practically throbbing with people, they were easily overlooked. All of this was captured through the eyes of two small cameras hidden in their clothing. Sollux, Karkat, Slick, and Deuce were gathered around a computer in a small sitting room in the back of _The Midnight Brew_ watching two video feeds of a bobbing coffee shop. 

Aradia and Tavros walk up to the counter in ridiculous outfits (a large, floppy hat here, a dark pair of shades there) and order from a rather jittery employee with a nametag stating “Itchy”. Deuce thinks that the workers’ colorful hats were fun and whimsical and states as much, but is quickly shushed as Sollux turns up the volume.

The group watches as the pair takes their seats, one camera catching Tavros’ nervous expression, the other broadcasting Aradia’s cheery one. Everything was calm for a few moments until a cup is lifted to plump, red lips and an eye is winked.

Without so much as a warning, a shimmering spray of coffee is spewed across the table, dousing Tavros in the sticky liquid. Five mouths hang open in shock as Aradia begins to gag and gasp for breath, nearly collapsing from her chair.

Face showing genuine distress, Tavros rushes forward and bangs on his friend’s back, trying in vain to stop the hacking. Sollux cackles, wiping tears from behind his oval glasses as the rest stand still in surprise, faces not unlike the people standing in the shop across the street.

“THIS COFFEE IS HORRIBLE!” Aradia announces to the room, voice box suddenly in working order, “HOW ANYONE COULD DRINK THIS SLUDGE, _I’D_ NEVER UNDERSTAND!”

Everyone in _The Felt Cup_ and also Slick and Deuce watch with open mouths as both Karkat and Sollux snicker and shove at each other.

“Is there a problem, miss?” a worker by the name of “Doze” (Slick was starting to wonder what was up with all the weird-ass names) asks, hands clasped behind his back.

“Yes!” Aradia bursts, just a notch quieter, “your quality of refreshments is horridly dreadful and I’m taking my money elsewhere from now on!”

Doze nods reasonably and pulls out a slip of paper and a small wad of money, “Well, if you _do_ decide to return, here is a coupon and the money back for you and your friend.”

Keeping a straight face, Aradia nods and yanks the paper from his hands. Tavros is yanked sideways and dragged out of the coffee shop, the blistering drink from his own cup only adding to the mess already dripping from his clothes. Once they’re safely outside, Slick, Deuce, Sollux and Karkat glance at each other before rushing out of the room to the windows of the shop looking out onto the street. 

Tavros was talking with a pissed expression while Aradia speaks animatedly. Once across traffic and inside _The Midnight Brew_ , they are immediately surrounded by gushing family members and a round of high-fives.

Droog and Boxcars look up simultaneously at their children, Droog sighing and Boxcars calling, “My boy is now a MAN!” Several people look up from their tables, but most accept this as the average morning at the coffee shop.

After a few minutes of praise, Slick looks up to see…“Trace” and “Crowbar” ( _? What the hell?_ ) standing on the sidewalk outside. Shouting and flailing his arms, Slick throws himself outside and waves them away.

It was only afterwards that the people of _The Midnight Brew_ would realize that their little performance actually somewhat helped their rivals as opposed to being a hindrance and thus begin a city-wide rivalry.


	3. Horrible Hired Help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When trouble with The Felt Cup is stirred up, people are recruited to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, well, I had pretty much abandoned this fic, but it recently reached 300 hits, so that kind of gave me the motivation to continue! Any ideas or constructive criticism is welcome, especially since i'll need ideas to fill in some blank parts (this doesn't guarantee i'll use them, but it could get ideas flowing!) Also, it wasn't mentioned before, but Tavros has prosthetic legs.

“I told, you; we’re fucking viral.”

Slick cradles his head in his hands as he takes in the video in front of him. A pixelated fountain of coffee is shot across the surprisingly steady screen. Karkat sighs as he places his phone back in his pocket, “I’ve looked at the comments. If anything, their shitty coffee shop is even more popular that it already was. The video was even shot and uploaded by a worker there.”

Looking up, Slick asks, “Who was it?”

“Like…Dandelion or something. Oh wait, Clover.”

The man massages his forehead before waving his son away, “Go do yer homework or somethin’, kid.

Karkat rolls his eyes but nods, returning to his usual seat with the rest of the employee’s kids.

“What’re we gonna do, Slick?” Deuce asks as he helps a customer at the counter. 

Slick tilts his head down at the tiny worker. “Well I don’t fuckin’ know! Only thing I can think of is sabotage.”

“Maybe infiltration!” Deuce suggests, turning to face his friend as the patron walks away, “some of their staff has been sneakin’ in an—”

“WHAT.” The shorter man jumps at Slick’s outburst.

“Oh, I meant to tell you about that,” Deuce says sheepishly.

Slick growls in frustration, “An’ what exactly have the little termites been doin’?”

Deuce shifts his eyes back and forth, leaning forward, lowering his voice, and speaking conspiratorially, “I dunno, boss, but I’d be careful about what you say around here.”

Scoffing, the eye-patched owner heads toward the door leading to the back rooms, “Fuck that, this is my shop, I say whatever I want.” He passes through the door only to bump into Droog.

“Oh yes,” the taller man says, “I’ve been wanting to speak with you, Slick. It’s been brought to my attention that members of The Felt Cup are sneaking in and—”

“He’s talked ta’ ya’ already?” Slick spits, grimacing, “How many times do I hafta’ say this, The Midnight Brew ain’t up for ransacking and there’s no way in hell those green-faced bastards got in here!”

As soon as he finishes his rant, a shrill scream rings out from the front of the shop. Slick mutters under his breath as he rushes out to find Tavros looking down at his cup with horror. Everyone in the room freezes in confusion as Slick rushes over, grabs the startled boy by the collar, and drags him away. Tavros’ prosthetic legs slip and slide at Slick’s hurried pace, but he allows himself to be pulled into the back room.

Tavros grunts irritably as he’s let go of. “What’s yer deal, kid?” Slick grumbles, “We can’t afford ta drive out any business!”

“Whatssa’ matter with my boy?” Boxcars asks, walking into the room and shuffling through the boxes in the corner.

Glaring at Slick so that he knows to keep his mouth shut, Tavros says, “I think someone snuck in. There was, a bug in my cup.” Stomping to the door and thrusting out his head, Slick calls to his son through the gap.

“Karkat, get yer ass over here.” The boy across the shop looks confused, but he stands up nonetheless. “ _And bring the cup, moron_ ,” he hisses. Karkat sighs and turns once again. He wondered why anyone even bothered coming there, what with all this yelling. Maybe someone just wanted to drink their goddamned coffee without being disrupted by the world’s shittiest baristas. Whatever, it didn’t affect Karkat either way, so he didn’t care.

He smirks, hovering a hand over his own cup, then Tavros’, then shifting over to Aradia’s. Sollux snorts, “You are going to pith him off tho bad.” The three of them snicker as Karkat pretends to look confused, lifting Sollux’s cup, pointing at it, and raising an eyebrow at his father. Tavros peeks out from behind Slick and bites back a laugh.

Seething, Slick marches over to Karkat, trying his best not to make a scene. Karkat frowns, holding his ground as his dad stands before him. “You know what I was talkin’ about, lil’ prick,” Slick hisses. Sollux glances over at the two and eases his coffee cup out of Karkat’s hand. And not a moment too soon, because Slick pushes a hand onto his son’s chest (maybe a bit too roughly than intended) and Karkat sits down hard in his chair.

Slick reaches over and takes Tavros’ cup, shuffling to the back room once again. “Karkat, are you alright?” Aradia asks with concern, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Sollux scoffs, “I think KK’th uthed to hith dad being a bag of dickth by now.”

“Whatever, I’m fine,” Karkat sighs, ignoring the pain in his ass from being pushed, “At least he’s not as big a douche-bucket as you.” The two boys bicker back and forth and Aradia watches them with an amused expression as Tavros joins them again.

Back where the adults were, Slick was sifting through Tavros’ drink and, sure enough, there was a dead beetle floating in the muddy-colored beverage. Growling in frustration, Slick jerks a finger at Boxcars, “Go check the cups an get rid a’ these.” The towering man nods, going further back in the shop.

“Slick,” Droog says stepping forward after being lost in thought, “I think I know someone who could help us. He and his crew are quite experienced at sleuthing.”

Pondering this, his friend nods, “Yeah, we’re gonna need some help. Just do what ya’ have to, but for God’s sake go an’ help Deuce, he’s drownin’ in customers.”

 

It was the next day when the reinforcements arrive. One entered the coffee shop as a disguised patron, another tapped out a secret knock on the back door leading to the alley, and the third was found climbing up the fire escape to the living space above. Once the four adults were all gathered and the kids took over manning the counter, Droog makes introductions.

“This is Sleuth,” he says gesturing to a man of average height and weight who kept curiously looking over his surroundings, “Inspector,” his gaze lingers on the lanky man as he dabs at a bead of sweat and glances around nervously, “and Ace,” he finishes, pointing to a shorter, more robust man who wore a slight scowl.

“Er, hello everyone!” Sleuth says, shaking each of their hands, “We look forward to working for you today! Um, could someone refresh my memory on what we’re meant to do exactly?”

Slick sighs, “All ya’ gotta do is go over to The Felt Cup over there an’ rough up their shit.”

Ace snorts, “What the hell does that mean?”

“Just misplace some things,” Droog says helpfully, “Ruin some of their products.”

“Blow up the place!” Deuce exclaims, “Steal their hats and stomp on them.”

“Beat all their skulls in,” Boxcar rumbles, “Wreck the place.”

Sleuth and Inspector exchange a look and Ace frowns. “Well,” Sleuth speaks up, “we’ll certainly try our best. Come on gang!” The three of them walk past the workers of _The Midnight Brew_ and out into the coffee shop, eying the building across the street.

“Who’re the fruitcaketh?” Sollux asks, turning to his dad. Deuce grins with excitement, “They’re gonna help us take down the competition, sport!” Sollux rolls his eyes at the nickname, but turns back to the order he was preparing.

“Wait,” Ace says, peering out the window at the front of the shop, completely failing at being discreet, “Is that...?”

Inspector gasps, “Kingpin!”

“Let’s go! We can’t let him win. First we have to—” Sleuth’s words are blocked out as the door swings closed behind them. Boxcars sighs, “I don’t see this goin’ well.”

“The three of them are trained professionals,” Droog insists, “They’ll do fine.”

“Trained professionals, ey?” Slick grunts as they turn to go back to the counter of the shop, “Didn’t like the way you were lookin’ at that Inspector guy.” Droog sputters, face growing red as Slick cackles, throwing his head back and revealing jagged, coffee-stained teeth.

The kids begin filing out from behind the counter, but Slick stops Sollux, “Can ya’ go upstairs and make sure that Ace dick didn’t break a fuckin’ widow tryin’ ta’ get in?” Nodding and grabbing the set of keys offered to him, Sollux heads to the back room.

Setting his sight on the door leading to the staircase, Sollux crosses over to it only for his eyesight to be blocked. He stumbles to the ground, flailing in confusion. “What the—” he starts, but pieces of cloth are wrapped securely around his mouth, eyes, arms, and legs, and he is rendered immobile. _‘Let’s just hope they don’t kill me,’_ he thinks to himself.

 

“I-I can’t get it open.”

Inspector stands in front of the back door to _The Felt Cup_ , trying in vain to pull open the stuck door. Ace pushes him harshly out of the way, stepping up to the door and grabbing the handle roughly. “Ace you can’t possibly—” Sleuth starts but is interrupted by a loud shifting creak.

The door swings open, revealing a green eyesore of a break room. “You were saying?” Ace sneers, stepping into the building followed by his stunned comrades.

It would be gracious to say the shop was gaudy. The walls were covered in evergreen wallpaper and the fuzzy carpet was the same shade. The baseboards and trimming of the room were all made out of a dark wood with a clear sheen. It was, however, the main focus of the area that drew Ace in. The pool table.

He walks up to it, flitting his fingers along it, “Hey, why don’t _we_ have a pool table, Sleuth?” The man in question scoffs, waving the question away, “Come on, Inspector. Let us find something to wreck while Ace occupies himself.”

The two exit through an adjacent door and enter a room with a few scattered boxes, bags of coffee beans, and an oddly green oven. Snooping around, the two make a lot of “hmm”ing noises, looking behind things and checking for anything peculiar. Sleuth makes a small noise of surprise, pulling out a rust colored crowbar. Inspector flinches at the tool, raising an eyebrow. His partner shrugs, holding the curved object close as they continue.

Inspector peeks into the oven, finding a few cooking pastries. He gestures to the knob and Sleuth nods, raising the dial to a scorching temperature. The two of them snicker evilly. Now the baked goods would be ruined, what a disaster!

They look around for a few moments, coming up short of anything important. Just when they decide it was best to give up, two workers walk in by the names of Crowbar and Biscuits. “What’s going on in here?” Crowbar yelps, his voice raspy. Caught at a loss for words, Sleuth and Inspector glance at each other before launching towards the door.

Crowbar latches onto his namesake and he and Sleuth topple to the ground. Biscuits rushes to the oven and opens it, a cloud of black, billowing smoke bursting out. Both he and Inspector screech along with the fire alarm, ducking to the floor. Hollering at the top of his lungs, a Felt worker by the name of Matchsticks bursts in with a fire extinguisher, coating the room in white, fluffy foam.

Sleuth, who had finally recovered from the floor crowbar- and Crowbar-free, grabs Inspector’s hand and darts back out the door to promptly bump into Ace. “What the fuck is—” Ace is cut off by Sleuth who practically has to tackle him to get him to move. The trio makes it to the door and fling themselves out into a dingy alleyway. 

They land hard on the ground, knees skidding and heads knocking. “HEY!” looming over them stands a brute by the name of Cans. “Run!” Sleuth shouts. The three of them bolt to their feet, but Cans’ fist comes swinging and hits Sleuth in the back of the head. After that, Sleuth goes unconscious and imagines a happy, safe place. Granted, the place was a shopping center a week in the future, but it was safe nonetheless. Ace scoops up the fallen soldier bridal-style and they’re off once again.

 

Back at headquarters, Sollux was currently trying (and failing) to pummel his faceless attacker. Despite the clatter and sounds of struggle, no one had yet come back to check out the noise and Sollux mentally cusses out his whole family for it. He and the foe were presently rolling across the ground and he could feel a bruise forming on his side and dammit why wasn’t anyone there to help him?

Writhing, Sollux manages to flop and land his shoulder hard on the person’s stomach. With a loud “OOF” the body underneath him squirms and pushes him off. After a moment of hesitation, the person stands, footsteps hurry away from him, and a sound of a door opening and closing is heard in the distance. Sollux relaxes until realizing that he was still tied up with no way to escape.

“Sollux! What happened to you?” at the sound of Aradia’s voice, Sollux almost sobs in relief. A pair of hands remove the cloths around him and he registers the pain in his mouth. Probing around his mouth with his tongue, Sollux finds that some of his teeth were, in fact, missing.

A loud shout and a sound of a scuffle is heard from outside and Aradia reluctantly goes to the back door, opening it cautiously. Outside, Inspector was fighting Sollux’s captor, Kingpin. Sadly, Inspector was far too weak to land a solid blow on the tub of lard. That didn’t stop Aradia from marching up to the man, swinging back her fist, and punching him square in the face. The ruffian howls in pain while Inspector, Ace, Sleuth (still being carried), and Aradia rush back into the building, locking the door behind them.

A groan sounds from the floor and Aradia rushes back to Sollux. Teeth and blood were scattered about the floor and she winces. It looked painful. Deuce and Slick walking into the room with wide eyes. Slick takes in the scene with a sigh. He gestures to the other three men, “Can ya’…just…GET OUT?”

Inspector and Ace nod vigorously, scrambling towards the door in fear and trying not to trip over the toppled items, for the room was in quite a disarray. Deuce, meanwhile, was stooped next to his son, sopping up blood. “Whatda’ we do now, Slick?” he asks, holding back tears.

“We take ‘im to the hospital, a’ course,” Slick scoffs.

That night was a busy one. Sollux was brought to the hospital where they stitched up his mouth and scheduled to replace his teeth. Kingpin was found, taken in, and questioned. They spent the rest of the day surrounding Sollux’s bed well after being told to leave, recalling the story of his struggle and how Aradia socked Kingpin in the face. Sleuth briefly visits to tell the tale of his adventure and by the time he leaves, they were all keeled over with laughter.

There was surely hell to pay from The Felt Cup and its workers, but for now, their group was content.


End file.
